


It's What We Deserve

by rmowens



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Romance, Self-Discovery, Self-loathing Athos, d'Artagnan takes the lead, mild dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 02:24:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10607352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rmowens/pseuds/rmowens
Summary: Aramis accidentally stumbles on Athos and d'Artagnan in a private and intimate moment and is unable to tear himself away.Afterward, he comes to a profound conclusion about who and what he wants.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up differently than I expected. It started with the d'Artagnan/Athos love story being the main focus, but their story ended up being a vehicle for Aramis to come to some conclusions about himself. 
> 
> The ending is also very different from what I originally planned.
> 
> Oh, and "mon bébé" is "my baby" in French, according to the internet, but it seems pretty accurate.

Aramis trodded up the stairs to Athos’ quarters. It’s been a month since the episode with Bonnaire and the return to the Comte’s home. During that time, he noticed a change in both Athos and d’Artagnan’s behavior. They were awkward around one another; cold, aloof and distant. He hoped the problem would have been worked out by now, whatever it was, but the discomfited atmosphere persisted. No longer able to tolerate it, he was determined to get to the bottom of the issue at his evening meal with his long time friend. Unfortunately Athos had not supped at the garrison, choosing instead a nearby tavern. So now, here he was, climbing the stairs of the billets, turning right and walking the long corridor in search of his brother. 

As he approached Athos’ quarters, he saw a bright glow shining from the window and was encouraged someone was home. When he raised his hand to knock on the splintered wooden door, he hesitated when he heard raised voices, obviously arguing. 

“Athos please! Talk to me.” 

“We have nothing to discuss.”

He pressed his ear closer to the sounds, trying to determine if he should interrupt when he recognized the other voice in Athos’ room as d’Artagnan. Though he knew it was wrong, he quietly checked the door, realizing it was not barred, he gently pushed it open, his inquisitiveness getting the better of him. If the two men were discussing their quarrel, he did not wish to disrupt, but he was also curious what they were squabbling over. 

He crept through the quarters; his highly trained Musketeer reflexes allowing him to gracefully avoid making noise, following the shouting voices coming from the back room. 

“I’m begging you!” he heard the youngest of them plead, a tremble in his voice. 

He only heard a resigned sigh in response. Aramis slowly leaned around the door frame, his eyes and the top of his head the only things visible from inside the room. His eyes widened in shock at the sight. His breath caught in his chest at what he walked in on. His mind spun, confused as to exactly what he was witnessing. Athos’ body was pinning d’Artagnan’s against the wall, his hands curled in the collar of the boy’s doublet, crushing the fabric between his desperate fingers. Because the older man had his back to the door, he couldn’t see Athos’ face, but he had a clear view of d’Artagnan’s features and they were clearly pained. 

The younger man’s hands came up to wrap themselves around Athos’ tightened hands at his collar. His eyes were narrowed and filled with unshed tears, at least what he could see through the curtain of dark hair obscuring them. His voice was small as a child’s when he next spoke.

“I love you Athos. Don’t run from me.”

Aramis watched the back of Athos’ head shake, his long brown hair swaying with the motion. “No you foolish boy. Are you blind? I’m no good for you.” He let that hang in the air before he uttered his shameful truth. “I ruin everyone I love.”

Upon hearing the broken man’s confession, Aramis’ heart sank for his brother. He and Porthos knew something traumatic happened to him, but they weren’t privy to the information. At the same time, hearing his two brothers speak of love, seeing them clinging to one another as if the other would vanish into thin air at any moment, left him speechless and unable to move, despite the fact that he desperately wanted to leave such a private moment. 

“I’m not them.” d’Artagnan proclaimed, his voice soft and comforting. “I’m a Musketeer, trained by the best.” His mouth quirked into a short grin at the last bit, his hand squeezing Athos’ hand as if to say “I’m talking about you dummy.” He continued “We can protect each other, take care of each other!”

Aramis closely listened to Athos’ response, his voice coming out in despair “If I let myself...have you, you’ll be destroyed.” Despite his words of warning and rejection, the older soldier pressed his body further against d’Artagnan, his forehead resting against the boy’s, refusing to let him go, not realizing d’Artagnan would never let him go even if he tried. Aramis continued to watch, his eyes reluctantly glued to the scene before him, transfixed by the passionate suffering and longing suffocating the room. 

Now their faces were pressed together and Aramis couldn’t see anything other than Athos’ back but he could hear the two men breathing against each other. d’Artagnan’s hands released from Athos’ hands at his collar and moved to run through the older man’s brown hair, stroking the strands, caressing his scalp, seducing him with the intimate and comforting touch. It looked as if d’Artagnan’s stubbornness was winning out over Athos’ own obstinacy because the older Musketeer merely sighed and melted into the touch. They stood like that for a couple of moments, enjoying the closeness while trying to forget the rest of the world. Aramis was truly stuck now. The room was too quiet with neither speaking. If he attempted to leave, they would surely hear him. 

So he continued to take in the sight. He never thought of his brothers in this way, but now his heart was breaking for both of them, his own romantic nature rooting for them. He was on the edge of the cliff with them, hoping just as much as d’Artagnan that Athos would see he brought joy, not ruin, to the people who truly loved him. He was broken from his reverie when he heard the Pup’s sad, soft and hopeful voice break the silent spell between them as he whispered into Athos’ ear.

“Please trust me. All will be well.”

Aramis watched as d’Artagnan’s thumb moved to Athos’ face and gently swiped at something; the wet pad of flesh indicating it was a tear. “You take such good care of all of us. Please let me take care of you.” Athos still appeared to hesitate and the boy grabbed his jaw between his fingers, jerking Athos’ head gently to get his full attention. 

“When I saw you lying on that floor, surrounded by flames, I thought you were dead and I…couldn’t handle it.”

“Flames?” Aramis thought. “When had Athos been in a fire?” he worried to himself.

“I knew it then. I knew I would risk everything to save you, just as you would risk everything to save me; to save Aramis and Porthos.” He shook Athos’ head again before beginning “We’re your family!.. I”, he paused to emphasize, “am your family! And I’ll never give you up. Any of you.”

Aramis’ thoughts were racing. When did Athos almost die in a fire? Why wasn’t he there to save him? He sent a prayer up; thankful their youngest had been there. Most of all, he was moved by d’Artagnan’s devotion to them. 

Just then Athos began to speak, his voice flat and broken. “d’Artagnan, there’s no way to know…” 

“Don’t…just don’t.” The younger man interrupted, his hand still gripping Athos’ face. His voice cracked and Aramis’ chest seized when he saw tears begin to fill the big brown puppy dog eyes he was using to beg Athos with. 

“I need you.” He paused, seemingly debating his next move. “I want you.” He promised as his hips rose from the wall and firmly pressed against Athos’ own pelvis. Aramis watched as Athos gasped at the contact, his hands involuntarily gripping the boy’s waist, holding him there. The two men made eye contact as d’Artagnan changed his tact from words to touches. “You want me too” he said as he reached between them, causing Athos to moan and collapse his head forward onto the boy’s shoulder. “Surrender to it Athos.” 

Aramis couldn’t see what d’Artagnan’s hand was doing between the two men’s breeches, but he had a good idea as Athos continued to moan and sigh in pleasure, sounds hushed by his muffled mouth. He noticed the smile of triumph on the boy’s face as the older man’s body gave in to his demands. But the smile disappeared when Athos pulled his head up and he growled before roughly kissing the other Musketeer, his tongue invading d’Artagnan’s mouth. 

Athos began to violently pull d’Artagnan’s clothes off, throwing his doublet and breeches near Aramis’ hiding place, ripping his fragile underclothes until the boy’s body no longer held secrets. Aramis began to fear for d’Artagnan as Athos carelessly left bruises on his neck and drew blood from his lips as he maneuvered them around the room. He watched as Athos dug his fingers into the younger man’s hips, leaving vile looking marks as he tossed the lanky body onto the bed. He still couldn’t see Athos’ face, but the look of pure astonishment on d’Artagnan’s face made him assume Athos looked crazed. 

The boy, fearless, put up no fight as the still clothed older man crawled on top of him, pinning his arms and legs as his mouth continued to attack the brown flesh beneath him. The younger man only gasped and spread his legs to envelop the body on him, Aramis was about to interrupt, his concern for d’Artagnan stronger than his fear of being caught watching the exchange, when Athos finally spoke.

“Is this what you want Puppy? This pain? Cause it’s all I’ll bring you. It’s all I know.” To emphasize his point, his fingertips tightly squeezed d’Artagnan’s inner thigh as he thrust his clothed hard cock against the boy’s equally hard naked one. The younger man only whimpered at the rough contact.

“I’ll take you any way I can get you.” d’Artagnan naively insisted.

Aramis was shocked as he watched d’Artagnan’s head rise up and quickly bite at Athos’ bottom lip, drawing blood. “I’ll give you whatever pain you think deserve, but” he continued, gently licking the sting of the bite away with his warm tongue and a soft lip. “I know you’d never really hurt me Athos. I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone.” He easily wrestled his right arm from under Athos’ body and brought his hand up to gently touch the other man’s cheek. 

“You don’t deserve pain. Let it go. I can give you what you don’t know you need.”

Aramis was spellbound at the scene; the beauty, the darkness, the passion and the honesty were like a fist that had a hold of his heart and he sadly realized he would probably never have this kind of love. Confusingly, a flash of Porthos’ face sped through his mind’s eye but he quickly dismissed it, enraptured by what was unfolding before him. His breath hitched as he watched d’Artagnan’s next move, his effort to give Athos what he truly needed.

In a flash of speed that shocked both Athos and Aramis, D’Artagnan flipped them so he was now the one resting between the older man’s legs. Before he could protest, D’Artagnan pressed a gentle kiss to the side of Athos’ unpliable lips. Aramis watched as the determined boy continued to lay gentle, soft, warm kisses to Athos’ mouth, so delicate and sweet, he could see the older man’s confused and tense body begin to relax with each quiet smack of lips. 

He watched as Athos’ hands, laying stiffly by his sides, refusing to touch the naked body on top of him, slowly began to twitch with want as d’Artagnan worked his magic, lips caressing, body slowly rocking and voice whispering out “Athos…Athos…Athos” between kisses. Aramis’ heart was in his throat at the sight of the boy’s seduction and his brother’s inner battle. Mentally, he willed Athos to respond, to give in to his desire, to let go of his unjustified fear. 

And like magic, d’Artagnan found Athos’ sweet spot as he gently licked and kissed at the skin below Athos’ ear, causing the older Musketeer’s hands to involuntarily move to grip the Pup’s ass, squeezing the brown globes as a loud and broken moan betrayingly escaped his already swollen lips. Aramis let out a breath of relief when he saw d’Artagnan’s smile of adoration. He grew bolder in his victory and his hand left Athos’ hair and travel down to his breeches covered cock. Athos’ panic must have returned when he felt the large hand begin to stroke him through the fabric and he yanked his hands off the younger Musketeer’s ass, revealing red marks left imprinted on the brown flesh. d’Artagnan showed his age when he whined at the loss of contact on his skin and refused to let go of his toy when Athos tried to subdue his groans and wiggle away, a look of pain on his face. 

But Aramis noted in this state, d’Artagnan’s will was stronger, and he continued to hold Athos in place while he stroked the breeches and kissed the newly formed purple spot on the older man’s neck. Athos didn’t stand a chance as he gasped at each stroke, moaned at each kiss and whimpered at each subtle gyration against his body. The boy was only spurred on by each sound of affirmation and he raised his head from his work on the other side of Athos’ neck to watch his soon-to-be-lover’s face in pleasure. Both men’s eyes were dark and blown as they locked onto each other. Aramis watched as Athos squirmed under d’Artagnan’s intense gaze and after only a short time, he closed his eyes in what he guessed was an attempt to hide from the boy. 

In an unexpected move, d’Artagnan abandoned his physical seduction and moved his hand to Athos’ cheek, gently grazing and stroking it in a tenderness that made Aramis ache. 

“I love you so much Athos” he whispered to swollen lips and closed, hiding eyes. “You’re so beautiful.”

He leaned his head down to rub his nose against Athos’ nose and then lowered further down down to rest their foreheads together. He continued to whisper.

“You’re the best person I know. You’re kind and gentle.” He kissed the tip of Athos’ nose before resting his forehead again. “You’re brave and loyal.” Aramis watched as he kissed his forehead this time. “You’re compassionate and smart.” He could see silent tears run down Athos’ cheeks and fall into his ear as d’Artagnan continued to shower him with soft touches, gentle kisses and loving words; things he thought he didn’t deserve. “I want you for my own” the younger man finished before snuggling into Athos’ neck, basking in the closeness while it lasted. 

It was a few minutes before Athos composed himself to finally respond to his puppy in a deadpan voice, a response to d’Artagnan’s kind words, “You smell good.”

Aramis let out a snort loud enough to be heard but both men were so enraptured with each other they wouldn’t have noticed a musket fire. D’Artagnan had a similar reaction, his body shaking with gentle laughter against Athos’ neck. He looked up to see Athos’ eyes open again and smiled down at him. “Did I forget to mention I also love you for your sense of humor?” 

Athos looked up at d’Artagnan in what Aramis would describe as awe and confusion as he stroked his smooth cheek and whispered “You really do, don’t you?” d’Artagnan solemnly nodded. “I don’t wanna hurt you d’Artagnan.” 

“You will. It’s inevitable.” Before Athos could look away in shame, d’Artagnan grabbed his face and gently held it. “And I’ll hurt you.” Athos furrowed his brows. 

“It’s what people do, they hurt each other. Whether by accident, or out of anger, or to make a point. People who love each other are destined to hurt each other. But we forgive and we move on BECAUSE of the love.” Both Athos and Aramis listened closely, somewhat shocked of the wisdom from the youngest recruit. “Don’t be afraid to hurt me Athos. I’ll let you know when you do and we’ll work it out.” 

After a beat, it was like something in Athos came alive and he flipped them over, once again on top of the Pup, once again between his legs but gone was the aggressive self-hatred. In its place was the desire he’d been denying himself. He straddled d’Aragnan as he pulled his dirty white linen shirt over his head, revealing his hairy chest, which the younger man immediately reached out to touch, running his fingers down the skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps leading down to the laces on Athos’ breeches. Hurriedly, his long fingers undid the strings until there was an opening large enough he could get his hand through. He subconsciously licked his lips as he gripped Athos, the older man throwing his head back in a deep sigh, his hands gripping d’Artagnan’s chest to keep his balance. 

Aramis knew he should leave while they were distracted but he couldn’t. The scene before him was too beautiful…too rare, and his heart was so swollen with love for both of his brothers he couldn’t bear to not be a part of it. He found himself wanting to be in there with them. To experience it with them as they were experiencing it with each other and it scared him.

The room began to grow warm as their breathing sped up, becoming more shallow with each new and pleasurable touch. He could smell the musky scent of adrenaline coursing through the two men, coming out through a mixture of sweat, natural lubrication and saliva. His own body responded to the stimuli bombarding his senses. The sight of their intimate bodies, the sounds coming from each man’s mouth, but most of all the sounds coming from d’Artagnan’s hand as it glided up and down Athos’ cock; the filthy sound of fluids being pushed into and out of the tiny space between their flesh with each pump. He began to ache with need, but refused to debase his friends’ love in such as manner as to use them for his own selfish release. He forced his attention back to the scene before him.

Athos writhed and gyrated into the younger man’s hand, barely allowing room for d’Artagnan’s other hand to push the breeches further down. When he finally got them over his ass and down to his knees, the younger man whispered “Trust me” before reaching behind Athos to skim his fingers through the dark dusting of hair on Athos’ crack. Athos nodded through a whimper and d’Artagnan dipped his index finger between the smooth cheeks and slowly ran the digit up and down the length. Athos panted in response, gripping the pillow under d’Artagnan’s head to ground himself.

d’Artagnan brought his finger to his mouth and sucked on it, coating it with saliva, savoring the tease of Athos’ flavor, before bringing it back inside Athos’ crack. Instead of traveling though, he landed on one spot and stayed there before kissing Athos through a moan. Suddenly Athos jerked in surprise, causing the younger man’s slippery hand to release his cock.

He looked down at d’Artagnan in confusion and shock, his blue eyes as wide as saucers. “Have you ever…before?” d’Artagnan questioned. 

A simple reply “No.”

An even simpler reply “I’ll take care of you.”

Aramis briefly wondered how d’Artagnan knew how to take care of him, and irrationally became jealous of all the people from their youngest’s past. 

With another kiss to his lips, d’Artagnan rolled off of Athos. He then completely removed Athos’ half disrobed breeches, rendering him completely bare. He motioned for Athos to turn onto his stomach. Once the older man’s backside was on full display, the young Musketeer ran his hand over his back, his soft, marred skin covering ropes and cords of muscle, to gently rest and squeeze his ass before moving down to equally muscular legs. Goosebumps followed in his fingertips’ wake. 

He repeated “You’re so beautiful Athos. You don’t even know.” 

He called d’Aragnan’s name, begging. Begging for what, neither d’Artagnan nor Aramis knew. 

“Relax” the younger man implored as he moved to position himself between Athos’ legs, sitting so he could easily press his face against the smooth skin and course hair on his new lover’s ass. He nuzzled against him, breathing in a scent that was uniquely Athos, and layed wet, open mouthed kisses on the long neglected skin. Athos gripped the pillow, now underneath his head, and moaned into it. 

Soon, the kisses became licks and sucks on the flesh. d’Artagnan’s mouth traveled from cheek to cheek, each time a bit closer to the crack, mentally preparing Athos for where he was heading. Finally, he arrived at his destination. He pressed soft kisses to the crack, lightly running his tongue along the outside, gauging the older man’s reaction. Athos was slightly grinding against the mattress in time with d’Artagnan’s licks. The young musketeer’s own neglected cock twitched at the realization. He desperately wanted to be inside of the man under him but it was going to take time. Time, Aramis noted, he seemed determined to enjoy. 

Not wanting to wait any longer, the young Musketeer jumped off the cliff and dipped his tongue inside of Athos’ crack, slowly mimicking his actions from the outside ministrations. He ran his tongue up and down, each time, firmly hitting Athos’ hole and causing the older man to scream with each soft scrape. It was when d’Artagnan stopped his travels and focused his attention solely on the hole, lapping at it, drenching it with his saliva, humming into it, breeching it with the tip of his finger, did Athos’ body finally give out. 

d’Artagnan was so enthralled with Athos’ body, he couldn’t see the older man’s face, but his head was turned on the pillow facing Aramis and Aramis could see every emotion flying across his face. He looked like he was caught between Heaven and Hell. One moment, pure bliss graced his face, the wet warmth from his lover’s mouth creating a pleasant sensation. The next, his brows furrowed, his bottom lip red from his teeth marks, the constant barrage of d’Artagnan’s tongue on his sensitive nerves causing his hands to clench in the sheets, so white they almost matched the linen, but refusing to ask for less, instead encouraging the boy to continue by subtly wiggling his ass for more. 

He cried out for d’Artagnan as he continued to grind against the mattress through his release. d’Artagnan heard his lover call for him and he stopped what he was doing to cover Athos’ body with his own, laying his front to the older man’s back as he laid gentle kisses on the back of his neck, their fingers intertwining as d’Artagnan anchored and held Athos through it. 

Aramis could see a puddle of wetness starting to spread under Athos’ belly, the sheet and mattress absorbing his seed while he worked to catch his breath, clutching the boy’s hand as if his life depended on it. The room was silent for what seemed like hours when Athos finally spoke, his voice raspy and dry “I love you.” No frills, no exaggerations, just a straightforward, matter of fact declaration. d’Artagnan smiled against his neck and squeezed his fingers. “I love you too.”

Then, another matter of fact declaration, “I don’t deserve you.”

Aramis saw the flicker of stubborn on d’Artagnan’s face before he said “We’re past that now Athos. I’m claiming you.” He kissed his cheek before adding “There’s one more thing to do before you’re completely mine.” He whispered into the older man’s ear. 

Athos shuddered at the warm breeze against his sensitive skin, the musky smell of himself on d’Artagnan’s breath stirring something primal in his gut. Still without rising to look at the boy, Athos’ raspy voice could barely be heard through the pillow his cheek was pressed against “Which is, Puppy?”

It was d’Artagnan’s reaction to the nickname which brought some of his senses back and he realized the fullness he felt was the boy’s cock nestled between his cheeks. He could feel the wet slickness of d’Artagnan’s arousal pooling as the younger Musketeer twitched at the nickname and he thrust his hips forward, letting out a whimper as the cheeks surrounding him created a sweet, teasing friction. Athos and Aramis hadn’t yet heard d’Artagnan make a noise like that, and as if reading Aramis’ mind, he wanted to hear more. He slid his hips back and forth, forcing the glide and felt his chest seize at the sounds his puppy was making. 

Aramis, his own heart pounding in his chest at the erotic sight, jumped slightly when d’Artagnan unexpectedly let out a growl upon roughly flipping Athos onto his back and settling in the spot between the older man’s legs. A spot that he claimed as HIS territory. 

Athos too gasped in shock at the sudden manhandling, but it became a sigh when the younger man’s finger once again found his wet hole, sliding in to the first knuckle. “This” d’Artagnan belatedly answered Athos’ question. 

From his hiding spot, Aramis could see the tension in Athos’ body, the vein in his neck pop as he struggled against the intruder. He could hear d’Artagnan’s soft whispers against the older man’s cheek stubble to relax. The spying Musketeer’s own hole clenched and twitched at the sight he glimpsed past Athos’ muscular hiked up thigh. 

“Don’t fight me Mon bébé” his lips urged into the crow’s feet at the corner of Athos’ right eye before kissing them softly. He watched as their leader’s body melted at the new nickname; he watched as their youngest’s finger slid all the way in; and he watched as the two kissed, tongues swirling through Athos’ groans as d’Artagnan’s finger worked to stretch his virgin hole. Still refusing to touch himself, he cursed as he felt the wet patch on the front of his breeches becoming thicker and tightened his own hole around a phantom object. 

Athos’ voice brought him out of his pleasure haze. “God d’Artagnan.” Athos was gasping, grasping at d’Artagnan’s arm for anchor when the boy began to enter a second finger. It went on like this for a little over half an hour. He scuttled to hide himself when d’Artagnan reluctantly left a frustrated Athos to fetch some oil from the kitchen, leaving Athos with instructions to not remove his own fingers until he returned. He watched as the older man experimented with his body, wiggling both fingers inside of himself, feeling the heat and softness of his walls and gasping as he tried stretching himself. When d’Artagnan returned to the sight, too distracted to notice Aramis tucked away in the shadows, he gripped his leaking, naked cock and stroked himself in time to Athos’ slow strokes. Upon walking into the room like that, Athos licked his lips and involuntarily called out for his puppy, urging d’Artagnan to put his fingers back inside. The boy immediately spilled onto the ratty old rug. 

They continued nonetheless. Stretch, groan, oil, another finger, stretch, curse, another finger, stretch, gasp, begging. By the time he had four fingers comfortably in Athos, they were both on the precipice of ecstasy. Strung out and enthralled by all the sensations running through their young bodies. Both predictably hard and leaking again. Aramis was amazed. He had never seen their stoic brother so vulnerable, so willing to surrender; but he watched with fascination and longing as d’Artagnan undid him, so patiently expelled all of his inhibitions. 

Gently, he removed his fingers and kissed his way down each of Athos’ legs before placing them around his hips. The light in Athos’ eyes danced with adoration as he embraced d’Artagnan’s body, now laying lightly against him as the boy prepared himself with more oil and lined himself up with the already abused hole. 

This was it, Aramis excitedly thought to himself as he watched he boy push the tip in. Both men threw their heads back at the beginnings of intrusion but d’Artagnan didn’t go further. Athos’ fingers dug purple fingerprints into his back while the younger man laid an ironically chaste kiss to the older man’s scared lips before laying their foreheads together. “Ready Mon bébé?” he whispered against the warm skin of Athos’ bottom lip. The grizzled Musketeer nodded, waiting for a pain he had never experienced before, but wanted to feel more than he would have ever guessed. 

Aramis held his breath as he watched d’Artagnan’s cheeks clench as they slowly and carefully thrust his hips forward. They had prepared Athos thoroughly, but the tall and lanky boy was larger than four fingers. They all knew he was ripping into Athos. At the first unpleasant burn, Athos clenched, willing d’Artagnan to stop. d’Artagnan comforted his new lover, laying sweet kisses on his face, holding his hand and whispering words of reassurance in his ear. But Athos was a Musketeer, a soldier, and he would not be defeated by the pain for long. Soon, he raised is hips, welcoming a couple more inches of d’Artagnan’s cock inside. The boy let out a curse as Athos’ tight, wet and smooth walls enveloped his sensitive nerves. The older man gasped at the burn which was quickly becoming a pleasantly sweet one. Still, they held onto each other while they waited for Athos to adjust. 

d’Artagnan buried his face in Athos’ neck, gently kissing and nipping while Athos stroked his fingers through d’Artagnan’s soft black hair as it fell against his neck and chest. 

The quiet disappeared with Athos’ gruff voice “Finish it Puppy.” d’Artagnan raised his head to look Athos in the eyes, and in one final push buried himself completely in the man he loved. Athos moaned at the fullness, but he was never one to back down from a challenge, especially one d’Artagnan was throwing at him, and the men’s eyes remained locked, baring their souls to each other as the younger man began to move; withdrawing to the tip, then softly but firmly sliding back home. The only sounds to be heard were low whimpering, the quiet squeaking of the bed, the soft slap of skin and the fluids being squeezed in and out of Athos. Aramis easily held his breath, in awe of the beauty before him.

d’Artagnan broke the spell when he kissed Athos’ lips softly and withdrew again, but this time he slammed back into Athos hard, hitting his prostate in the process. Athos’ eyes rolled back in his head as his body arched and he screamed out a curse. d’Artagnan placed his arms to the sides of the older man’s head for leverage as he pounded. Athos’ hands grabbed onto them during the ride, his fingers leaving bruises to match the ones he left on the younger man’s back and hips earlier. Aramis watched as d’Artagnan’s dark hair swayed to and fro as his body bounced, his thrusts rhythmic and unforgiving. “Fuck. God. Athos. You feel so good!” His words breaking through the incoherent babbling moans and groans Athos was spewing. The older man’s hands began to fumble for d’Artagnan’s body. They ran over his neck, grabbed at his muscled chest and stomach and, not being able to make up his mind, moved up again to face and hair, touching every inch he could. It was when Athos was stroking d’Artagnan’s lips, that the younger Musketeer sucked Athos’ thumb into his mouth and sucked, biting gently at the pad. Athos’ stomach dropped as his cock twitched and his hole clenched causing d’Artagnan to inadvertently bite down, breaking the flesh on Athos’ thumb. Athos slightly winced at the pain but it was nothing compared to a musket ball wound or a sword slash and he thrust his hips up to meet d’Artagnan’s as the boy sucked the wound, easing the sting with his warm tongue. 

d’Artagnan’s rhythm was no longer punishing but was now erratic, short fast pumps intermingled with long languid thrusts. Athos wanted more, he wanted the fast and hard back. He’d never felt anything like the sensations of his prostate being repeatedly hit by the Pup’s cock and he wanted it again. He whined when d’Artagnan slowed down again, returning to the beginning, careful pace, his breathing ragged.

d’Artagnan reassured “I’m close Athos. I want us to release together. I want to see you touch yourself.”

Athos, always the good soldier, did as he was commanded by his subordinate Musketeer and began to stroke himself. His cock was swollen and leaking, the only friction it previously received was the rub of d’Artagnan’s belly against it when would he thrust up. He let out a painful sounding moan, too focused on the cock in his ass, he forgot about his own cock and touching it after all this time pulled him closer to the edge, where d’Artagnan was waiting for him. 

d’Artagnan gently grabbed Athos’ chin, once again, claiming Athos’ green eyes with his brown. He thrust deeper than ever this time, as if trying to crawl into the older man. With each deep thrust, both men gasped and began to pant, each with that familiar feeling building in their lower bellies and in their balls. 

“God, mon bébé you’re so beautiful. I want you so much Athos.” 

The boy laid his forehead on Athos’ forehead, his lips pressing into the stubble on his cheek. “I love you too d’Artagnan” the older Musketeer confessed right before he screamed and erupted over his hand, shooting onto the boy’s belly, his hole contracting around d’Artagnan. The clench was all he needed and he also spilled, locking his pelvis against Athos’; making sure every bit of seed entered his lover before collapsing on him, breathing heavy and unable to open his eyes. Athos put his arm around the younger man, stroking his soiled fingers through dark, sweaty hair, offering him shelter and comfort; neither willing to move from each other.

Aramis sat there as well, stunned. He’d never released untouched before. But now, his seed was cooling in his breeches, growing more and more uncomfortable and making him feel guilty for watching his brothers. He looked down at his hand to see teeth marks on his knuckles where he’d bitten down to keep quiet. A bit of panic began to set in. He had to leave. Had to escape before they noticed him. He quietly and carefully slunk out of Athos’ quarters while the couple were too caught up in their haze to hear anything other than the rush of their blood settling down.

His hands shook as he held his hat in front of his crotch while walking down the nearly empty streets. It had to be nearly 11:00pm by now. There was no way he was going to sleep tonight. He needed to find Porthos, to talk to him, to confess his transgression…to confess his feelings of jealousy and desire. He thought of the comfort, solace and pleasure Athos and d’Artagnan found in each other’s arms and wished to be a part of it. As he walked and thought, he imagined himself in their bed with them as they made love, with Porthos’ long, strong arms wrapped around all of them, protecting them the way Athos protected d’Artagnan. He wanted to run his tongue and lips along the scar on Porthos’ eye as the Pup had done over the scar on Athos’ lip. He longed to feel all of them inside of him. He longed for easy, casual touches and intense, passionate kisses. He wished for d’Artagnan’s hair to tickle the skin on his belly as he kissed over Aramis’ body. He wished for Athos’ graceful fingers to dance on his cock. He wished for Porthos’ large body to press him against a wall and take him. He wished to do so many other things to them; had so many other things to say to them. 

Had he always felt this way or had witnessing Athos and d’Artagnan awaken something in him? Did he just want true love with someone, anyone, or did he truly love his brothers? The silence on the streets gave him time to think back. Perhaps in the back of his mind, he always felt closer to his brothers than other soldiers probably would…or should. The addition of d’Artagnan seemed to solidify them as a family. If he were honest with himself, he’d always been attracted to Porthos and Athos but always kept it tucked away, never letting himself acknowledge it, never thinking for even a second anything could happen between them. 

But now, he knew it could…had…for two of them. 

Aramis continued to roam the city until his feet hurt, ignoring the mess in his breeches for two hours until he finally made it back to his own billet. He knew it best not to talk to Porthos now, it wouldn’t end well if he couldn’t form a cohesive and convincing argument on the matter. Plus he was probably passed out drunk somewhere. He removed his clothes and curled under his sheets as the moon was just beginning to sink, his entire body aching for the three of them to wrap him in their arms. 

***  
When Aramis met up with Athos, d’Artagnan and Porthos the next day for breakfast in the dining hall, he tried as hard as he possibly could to not look guilty or suspicious. Athos and the Pup were trying equally hard it seemed. They made sure Porthos sat between them, spoke only of the day’s duties and tried not to grin each time they made eye contact. He noticed all the purple, mouthed shaped bruises not so hidden by doublet collars and tried to picture all the other marks he knew were under their uniforms. He noticed Athos sitting awkwardly and inwardly wished to know what it would be like to feel the way Athos felt this morning.

Porthos greeted him with his big usual booming voice and patted him on the shoulder when he sat across from them. He grinned his big usual charming smile and accepted the greetings with his own. Inside he shriveled in misery. As they all ate their breakfast and talked and laughed, he took the opportunity to look at the three of them side by side, admiring them and lusting after them. Loving them. 

It appeared he didn’t have a choice in the matter. He knew what he had to do.

**Author's Note:**

> I know leaving the end open like that sucks. It was out of my control and just happened. 
> 
> I can either leave it that way, or attempt to write a sequel. However, it may take awhile as I'm not much of a writer and I rarely get motivated. (This story took me months because of the stop/starts)
> 
> Let me know what you think, if you want a sequel or think it should be left the way it is. Also, if anyone has any sequel ideas, let me know. I can't promise I'll use them (again, lazy writer here), but I'm always open to feedback and requests.


End file.
